


The First of the Last

by wonwhale (ranithepirate)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Blood, Dark, Escort Wonwoo, Eventual Romance, First Meetings, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Boss S.Coups, Minor Character Death, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 07:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13946580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranithepirate/pseuds/wonwhale
Summary: Covered in grime Wonwoo is still stunning, a picturesque glacier in a violent sea of chaos that is the mafia, with a silent strength that captivates Seungcheol in a way that one else ever has.





	The First of the Last

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kind of universe with lots of crime and other bad stuff going on. Wonwoo is his his late 20s and Seungcheol is in his early to mid 30s.

He’s on his knees the first time Seungcheol sees him, a white silk shirt that is clearly not his dwarfing his slender body and long legs clad in black ripped jeans. He has a bruise blooming on his upper left cheek and blood dripping from his pursed lips as his dark eyes remain downcast, fixated on a stain in the filthy motel carpet. One of Seungcheol’s men is grabbing him by the back of his head, fist clenched tight in the black locks and keeping the thin man in place with a gun pointed to his temple.

Seungcheol walks into the small motel room flanked by his men on either side of him and even more waiting just outside, the strong yet familiar smell of blood and cigarette smoke making his nose wrinkle in disgust. He only spares the lifeless body of a much older gentleman on the bloodied bed a brief glance before addressing it. “Is that the lawyer I wanted gone?” Seungcheol questions the gun-wielding henchman who was retaining their latest captive, gesturing at the corpse with his head as he stands comfortably in front of the two men, hands in his pockets.

“Yes, sir,” his goon replies, just before forcefully shoving their uninvited guest onto the floor at Seungcheol’s expensive leather shoes. The stranger lets out a soft grunt as he braces himself with his palms on the dirty carpet, keeping himself elevated, but otherwise he doesn’t make any effort to move from the ground. “What should we do about this one? He was in the room before I got here. He didn’t put up much of a fight, although he’s got quite an attitude since he wouldn’t say a word to me even after I roughed him up a little. He might be the secretary or something.”

One look is enough make it quite clear that this young man is no secretary; Seungcheol eyes a fading mark marring the thin man’s jutting collarbone, just barely hidden under the silk shirt, and tries not to laugh. It’s amazing how inobservant people can be when their minds are just about as narrow as a thread. _A gay escort_ , Seungcheol muses inwardly, crossing his arms in amusement but not speaking aloud as he examines the silent stranger. He hasn’t come across one of those before, seeing how it’s considered sexual harassment for people of the same gender to sleep with each other in South Korea, making it a rare sight even in the red-light district. It’s no wonder the dead lawyer had gone out of his way to visit to a rundown motel on the outskirts of Seoul like this; too bad that only made him easier to kill.

After a moment of contemplation, Seungcheol crouches in front of the silent stranger so that they’re face-to-face, his lips parting to speak before he pauses in surprise when he notices that the young man is trembling. His long limbs are shaking ever so slightly as he tries his best not to look directly back at the mafia boss, the cool mask he wears revealing to simply be a front. The man's downcast black eyes don’t betray any emotion even though his body gives him away so easily, and Seungcheol feels something akin to sympathy stir deep in his gut.

He always was too soft.

“What’s your name?” he asks the young man, keeping his voice quiet so that no one else can overhear their conversation, but it still makes the other flinch to suddenly be addressed. Seungcheol signals with his head at the dead body on the mattress again. “Are you an escort? Is that why he brought you here? Or is there something else going on?”

The stranger purses his lips more tightly, as if contemplating whether to reply or not, before finally responding in a tone that is lower than expected. “My name is Wonwoo,” the stranger supplies, and despite still trembling, he looks up right into Seungcheol’s eyes with an air of bold confidence that had come out of nowhere. Another feeling stirs in Seungcheol’s gut, but this time it’s different from the first, intensified by the slight of Wonwoo’s sharp features. Even with the bruising on his pale cheek and the drying blood on his mouth, he’s beautiful in a way that’s breathtaking, with inky lashes and cherry lips. His face was like a punch to the stomach.

“And yes, I am an escort,” Wonwoo adds after another beat, shaking his black hair out of his eyes before he continues to look directly Seungcheol. “If you’re going to kill me for being gay, I prefer it’d be quick. Or if you let me live, I can make it worth your while.” Even as he says this, expression sultry while he simpers softly at Seungcheol, his fingers have gone white from how hard they’re digging into the carpet, betraying his fear yet again. He truly believes that he’s about to die, but even through his fear his dark eyes are challenging.

“Hey, speak more respectfully to the boss!” the guard behind Seungcheol growls in anger, aiming a kick at Wonwoo’s head and making the escort flinch. However, Seungcheol blocks it with his forearm before it can connect and redirects it to the floor instead, the guard stumbling back in surprise.

“All of you, get out of here immediately,” Seungcheol states calmly, standing up as he addresses his henchmen. “You move on _my_ orders. Step out of line again and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” Wonwoo watches the henchman scramble out of the room with a bemused expression before turning back to look up at Seungcheol, dark eyes wavering a bit. The mafia boss signals with a nod of his head for him to get back on his feet and Wonwoo responds straightaway. Yet, even the way he rushes to stand is swift and elegant—there was something overwhelmingly fascinating about the way he postured himself—and Seungcheol watches his every movement with careful eyes.

“Not that I'm taking back what I said, but I’m not sure I can do well with a dead body in the same room,” Wonwoo mentions nervously as he readjusts the silk shirt, hyperaware of the mafia boss’ gaze. The escort is pale in a way that shows he doesn’t get out much during the day, taller than Seungcheol by a few centimeters but incredibly willowy in comparison.

Seungcheol chuckles at Wonwoo’s implication that they’d have sex in a seedy motel room with a corpse on the bed right next to them, and he ducks his head for a moment to mask his laugh before looking up at the taller man again. “No, I just wanted to get a better look at you,” he reassures in an unruffled tone, reaching up to wipe away the drying blood on Wonwoo’s split lip. Wonwoo jolts at the contact, seizing up in surprise when the older man shifts to cup his cheek. “You are absolutely stunning. Do you know that?”

At the sudden compliment the escort’s ears turn a fiery red, his gaze falling to their feet. “You’re not so bad yourself, but flattery won’t get you anywhere,” Wonwoo murmurs, even though his skin has grown hot under Seungcheol’s touch. The mafia boss smirks at the tongue-in-cheek humor before carefully sliding his hand along Wonwoo’s neck and down his side, vaguely aware of the shiver he causes, before fingering the hem of oversized white silk shirt with a look of disapproval. He’s acutely mindful that it belonged to the dead lawyer currently lying shirtless in the bed, the knowledge making his lip curl in distaste.

“Hmm, I guess it won’t,” Seungcheol hums, slowly retracting his hand before turning around to head to the door. “Wear the shirt you arrived in and get into the black limousine outside. Or don’t. I’ll only wait five minutes. You are free to go, if you so desire.” He continues to walk before he’s suddenly stopped by a soft tug, pausing mid-step.

“Will I… will I die if I follow you?” Wonwoo questions; he’d absentmindedly grabbed onto the coat draped over Seungcheol’s shoulders to get his attention, but he just as quickly lets it go like it had burned him, worried he might have angered the mafia boss. Seungcheol merely ignores the action, still not looking back as he continues walking like it never even happened. “I don’t have anything worth going back for,” Wonwoo calls out to him, voice trailing off at the end. “I just. I want to live.”

The older man pauses briefly at the doorway, hands back in his pockets as he takes a moment to carefully mull over his words. “I won’t kill you,” Seungcheol finally says over his shoulder, just loud enough for only Wonwoo to hear. “But… I might break you.”

 

 

Four and half minutes later, Wonwoo walks out of the dodgy motel in a dark navy shirt, the neckline low-cut and the fabric far too thin for the freezing weather; he’s tidied his dark hair and his face is freshly washed from the bathroom. Even just like this he is stunning, all long, slender limbs and sharp features that stand out no matter where he is, handsome enough to catch Seungcheol’s eye from the car. The mafia boss had only waited this long just to see what the young man would do, wondering if this would be the first and last time they’d meet.

What’s more unexpected, however, is that Wonwoo hesitates for not even a second before walking over to the limousine the moment he spots it at the back of the parking lot. He carefully climbs inside, sliding onto the black leather seat next to Seungcheol before grasping a beat too late that he’s in the older man’s space; Wonwoo is clearly used to clinging to his clients, and his face grows hot in embarrassment at what has become second-nature to him. Before he can even think to apologize and move away, Seungcheol rests his hot hand on Wonwoo’s thigh, keeping him in place as heat travels from his wide palm all the way through the escort’s skin, settling deep into his bones and grounding him.

The night is still young; the time ahead, infinite.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on accident while I was writing something else, and I was just kinda toying with this idea.
> 
> Also in South Korea it actually _is_ considered sexual harassment for two consenting same-sex individuals to sleep with each other. I didn't make that shit up.


End file.
